Date: Mon, 9 Dec 2013 14:54:49 +0000 (UTC)
From: fiveholepunch@comcast.net
Subject: Reprimanding Billy
The following story is a fictional fantasy based on a real boy I knew in
the sixth grade. See my story "Cock I Have Known Part Four" for the real
reminiscence. Please give to Nifty, a great online resource.
Reprimanding Billy
He was at it again.
I taught a small class of sixth-graders at a Catholic elementary school in
Pennsylvania. Out of the dozen or so boys in my class there were probably
four or five boys who hadn't matured to the point of conscious sexuality,
there were five or six who had, and then there was Billy.
Billy was a boy of eleven. He was still a slightly plump preteen. I don't
think Billy had any understanding of sex. He didn't have much in the way of
scholarly understanding, either. What Billy did have an understanding of
was that playing with his penis felt good. He did this semiconsciously and
he did this constantly. The boy was always fiddling with the outside of his
pants. Most often he would rub up and down in a general manner stimulating
his entire private area when seated at his desk. Then he would squeeze his
legs together, with or without his hand tucked in between his chubby
thighs. Sometimes he reached lower to jostle and jiggle his scrotum.
Less often were the times when Billy was specifically engaged in actual
masturbation, although Billy wasn't old enough to achieve an emission. If
he had been, the semen would have easily leaked through his underwear and
the thin wool fabric of our school's uniforms. This had happened in the
past on rare occasion to some of the more mature sixth grade boys, giving
obvious and embarrassing indications of their accidental discharge. Billy,
when really focused, could be seen, quite clearly tickling the head of his
boyish penis with his fingertips or determinedly pulling at his penile head
in a series of rapid outward yanks. It was only then that it was possible
to see any definition to Billy's sex organ. His penis would be extended no
more than two inches down the leg of his trousers.
Billy would only stop only if he thought somebody might be observing his
activity. Even when he suspected that I had seen him "at it," if I looked
away for a moment or so he would continue nearly immediately. Clearly,
Billy wasn't yet fully aware of the social stigmas attached to such blatant
self indulgence. To be frank, I did nothing to dissuade the boy as I found
it titillating to see such ingenuous delight pursued so avidly. This one
particular morning, though, I did address Billy's habit directly.
The boy had been off task all morning and had been disturbing others
involved in a writing assignment that the class was trying to finish before
recess and lunch at noon. I had admonished Billy repeatedly all morning
and I was rather exasperated at his misbehavior. Even though Billy had
gotten back to his writing, and his favorite habit I should add, I had had
enough. Billy was going to learn a lesson.
"Billy, I want to see you after class."
"What did I do, Mr. Williams?" the boy asked knowing he was in trouble for
something, but unable to fathom why.
"We'll discuss this after class, young man."
After the rest of the class lined up and went off to recess, I closed and
locked the door to my classroom. I turned my attention to Billy seated
behind his desk.
"You have been very bad today, Billy," I scolded.
"But, Mr. Williams ..."
I cut the youngster off.
"No back talk, young man. You've been very bad in class today and have
caused many distractions of your fellow students. You know the class rules,
this is unacceptable behavior."
My stern tone gave Billy pause.
"You will be punished for that by losing the first fifteen minutes of your
recess."
"Ohhh, Mr. Williams," the boy whined.
"That's not all, young man," I continued, "I think it may be necessary to
contact your parents about something else I've noticed class. Do you know
what I'm talking about?"
"No sir, Mr. Williams," Billy answered quietly.
I could see that the boy was thinking of things that he may have done
wrong, but he certainly wasn't expecting what I said next.
"Billy, I have noticed you playing with your penis in class."
Billy's eyes went wide, his jaw dropped. The boy was speechless.
"Isn't this true, young man?"
"N-n-no, Mr. Williams!" Billy stuttered in alarm.
"Billy, I won't have you lie to me, young man," I stated firmly, "I want
the truth. You have been playing with yourself in class, haven't you?"
Billy lowered his head. His lower lip trembled.
"I want an answer, young man."
Billy nodded his head slightly and started to cry.
"Do you think this is proper behavior?"
"N-n-nn-no," the eleven-year-old blubbered.
"Do you think Principal Green will want to hear about this behavior?"
"N-nn-nn-no," Billy, sobbing and upset, replied with difficulty.
"What do you think your parents will have to say about this?"
"Oh, please, please Mr. Williams, don't tell my parents!"
"I don't know, Billy. This sort of behavior is not something I think I can
keep from Principal Green or your parents," I stated with an air of great
concern.
"Please, Mr. Williams, I'll do anything if you don't tell my parents!"
Billy begged.
"Well, maybe I don't have to tell them this time ...," I offered, as if
considering an alternative.
The teary eyed boy looked hopeful.
"But," I emphatically interjected, "I just can't let this go
unpunished. There have to be consequences for such behavior. Isn't that
right?"
"Y-y-yes, sir," Billy agreed.
I reached into my pocket and pulled out my handkerchief. The boy had snot
bubbling from his nostrils with each sob.
"Blow your nose, Billy, and wipe up your tears."
I gave him a minute clean himself up the best he could. When the boy was
ready I continued.
"Billy, in order to decide what we should do about this I need to ask you a
few questions. I want you to understand that it's necessary for you to be
completely honest in your answers. No more lies, okay?"
The boy nodded.
"Billy, do you play with yourself at home?"
Billy bowed his head.
"Do you?" I asked gently.
"Yes," was the boy's meek reply.
"Do you play with yourself in your room?"
A quiet yes.
"Do you play with yourself in bed at night?"
"Sometimes."
"Do do it when you're in your bath?"
"Yeah."
"Do you ever do this with other boys?"
"No."
"Well, Billy, I think before I decide whether or not to tell your parents
about this, I need to see what it is you do when you play with your penis
when you are at home."
Billy looked scared. I wanted to reassure him.
"Billy, I'm going to let you show me what you do and I think, if you've
been honest with me, we can avoid talking to your parents and the
principal. Okay?"
Billy nodded, although with a slight uncertainty.
"Billy, I think it best that we go over here," I suggested, indicating a
front corner of the classroom shielded from the door by a cinder block
wall, "I don't want anyone to see you when you show me, okay?"
"Okay," the boy agreed.
I had Billy move to an area of the classroom that wasn't easily visible and
would, if anyone came by, give us time to make everything appear normal. We
stood together in front of the room.
"When you play with yourself at home, do you ever do it while you're
standing up, Billy?"
"Yes."
"Okay, Billy. I want you to take down your pants and show me what you do."
Billy undid his belt, undid the clasp at the waist of his wool trousers,
pulled down the cheap nylon zipper, and lowered his pants to his
ankles. The boy paused.
"Underwear, too."
Billy took the elastic waist of his cotton underwear and pulled it down his
smooth legs to rest atop his trousers. Billy stood and displayed himself
half-naked from his knees to the boyish belly that appeared below the
bottom hem of the school issue cotton pique polo shirt.
The boy's privates were hairless. Billy's scrotum was delicately soft, not
yet pendulous, his testicles undeveloped. Above, a circumcised penis, the
head a light pink in contrast to the alabaster white shaft not more than an
inch in length.
"Show me how you play with it."
Billy began tugging at his naked glans just as he did behind his desk, but
this time without the restriction of his clothing. He erected quickly, his
penis jutting forward two, maybe two and a half, inches. The boy looked up
at me, a questioning look on his face.
"Keep going, Billy," I encouraged.
The sixth grader continued masturbating himself. As I watched, I realized
the boy probably knew nothing of actually stroking his erection with his
fingers closed around the shaft. Some instruction was called for.
"Billy, have you ever wrapped your fingers around your penis when you've
played with yourself?" I queried.
"No, Mr. Williams," Billy answered honestly.
"Billy, I want you to try holding yourself in your fist like you're holding
an ice cream cone," I instructed.
"Like this, Mr. Williams?"
"That's right," I confirmed, "Now slide your hand up and down."
It took an adjustment or two in Billy's grip to get the hang of it, but
soon he was at it as naturally as any schoolboy. I could see Billy
concentrating, his mouth forming a pouting "O." His chubby legs began to
push his boyish hips ever so slightly. His scrotum had drawn up, tight and
wrinkly. I could feel my cockhead dripping in my underwear at the sight.
"Ooh, Mr. Williams, it's getting all tingly," Billy announced with an
innocent surprise.
"Don't stop, Billy, keep going."
Billy did as he was told, but I could by tell his deteriorating technique
that he was feeling the onset of something he had never felt before.
"Oooh ... Oh ... Ohh! ... Mr. Williams! I think I have to pee pee!"
"Don't stop, Billy," I urged.
"But, ... I ... uh ... uhh ... unhh ... unnhhh ... nnnghhh ..."
Billy's eyes narrowed, his nose squinched as he pushed his hips forward; he
thrust his boyish erection as high as possible, hand frozen in place as he
experienced the electric jolts of pleasure course through his body for the
first time in his life.
It took a few timeless moments for Billy to come down before he relaxed his
grip on his purple-headed penis. Billy looked both dazed and satisfied, as
he should. He looked to me, having no idea as to what to do next in his
first post-orgasmic state.
"Did you like that, Billy?"
"Uh-huh, Mr. Williams," he affirmed hazily.
"Well, now you know why we don't play with ourselves in class, Billy. We
can't have this happening during an English lesson, now can we?"
"No ... No, sir."
"Very well," I concluded, "I think you learned your lesson for today. Pull
up your pants now, young man."
Billy had a bit of difficulty rearranging his clothing, still rather
discombobulated from his first orgasm.
"I don't think it is necessary for me to take this matter any further this
time, young man," I offered as assurance, "But, any further misbehavior on
your part will mean I will have to tell the principal. Is that
understood?"
"Yes sir, Mr. Williams."
"You may go to recess now, Billy."
Off he scampered, years of masturbatory accomplishment ahead. I felt my
own sense of satisfaction at fulfilling my duty to inform and educate
youth.
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